Sit Down
by Suikorin
Summary: Lady moves in with Dante, except Dante did not get the message until she had already lived there a week. This is a story of their lives together after DMC 3.
1. Chapter 1 - Flat Chested

Sit Down - Chapter 1 - Flat Chested.

Dante got a new shop.

Just before Vergil and Arkham summoned that stupid tower, Dante's first shop had fallen into ruin from a minor demon infestation. Then that tower rose, causing an earthquake, though it was not the death knell for the shop. The shop finally collapsed for a much more embarrassing reason.

Therefore, he decided his next shop was going to be built on piles with a thick concrete cap, structural columns and trusses between each floor. There was no more of this silly "the building finally fell down from a sneeze" crap anymore. His next shop was going to survive all sorts physical assault, up to vehicle crashing through the door, major earthquakes and all hell breaking lose.

The only place he could find that fit the specification had a much smaller footprint than his previous place. It was claustrophobic building. Each wall, floor and ceiling were heavily reinforced with steel and concrete, resulting in lower ceilings and smaller floor space. At least it was several stories tall too so there's plenty of space to store all his arcane books and relics that he would no doubt collect. He settled on a name for the shop, one that he and Lady decided on together. "Devil May Cry."

Business was booming even before this new shop officially opened. Waves of demon were infesting the human world more so since Temen-ni-gru allowed demons to come through. It was a good thing that Lady, among some select others, can do the grunt work since he could only be in two places at once, not three. Sometimes, it had been so busy that the days had begun to blur together even before he mounted the shop's neon sign.

Then on the second day his shop officially opened, something strange happened.

Dante came downstairs early that morning, still feeling rather groggy. He had to get up early since there was an appointment with a contractor. Dante was not a creature of the day but every contractor he knew only worked during the day. He was still short on cash so he did not want to pay for the convenience of having someone work on mechanical and electrical problems at night. He was undisciplined sort of guy but not a stupid one. As he came down the stairs, the scene before him was incomprehensible.

Lady was at his desk. She was in a gray sleeveless shirt, with her bottom half covered only by a black polyester bikini panties and a pair of sandals. The girl was placidly eating a bowl of cereal while reading the newspaper. She looked so vulnerable, except for the 22-caliber gun next to her bowl and an even bigger gun strapped to her thigh.

For some reason, Dante had to stare. In the many weeks of working with Lady, he actually had never seen her eat, or seen her bare shoulder. Lady was a conservative female who covered up modestly. The demon huntress currently looked like a normal girl, just going through the morning routine. There was nothing there to suggest that this was a psychotic trigger-happy huntress who just killed a number of demons less than six hours ago. And from the lack of curves on a certain part of her body, he was definitely right about the stuffed bra.

"What a gorgeous -" Dante never got to finish as he moved to dodge a shower of bullets. He was successful for the most part, except for one bullet that smacked him straight in the middle of the forehead.

Lady put the gun down, satisfied. She continued to eat her cereal, turning the page on a newspaper, not even bothering to look up.

"Now what the hell was that for, Lady?" Dante finally groused once he more or less recovered. "And why you doing here so early?"

Lady turned her head to look at Dante. She frowned slightly, as if confused by his question. She stared at him for ten seconds before she answered one of the questions, "...I live here."

That was definitely news to him. "Since when?"

She turned her attention back to the cereal bowl, obviously already written his questions off as unimportant. "Since last week."

Dante thought about that. Well, that would had explained why the seat of the communal toilet seemed to magically find itself down instead of up. Plus, he noticed the other day that there was suddenly milk, yogurt, fruit and frozen vegetables in the fridge. There were enough customers and agents coming in and out of his shop that one of them could put those things in his fridge just as a prank. Most of them are unlikely to go for those rabbit food, however. "And when were you going to tell me?"

Now it was Lady's turn to look confused. "A month ago, when we were off on that job for the city commissioner. I've asked if I can stay here for a while and you've said that I can crash at your place anytime and make myself at home."

Dante internally groaned. "I was thinking more along the lines of couch surfing." He was fine with chick throwing themselves at him for momentary night time fun. He had plenty of practice with that. The ones that would stay generally had some sort of attachment problems and the relationship usually ended in a bad way.

The answer did not appear to fluster Lady one bit. Instead, her wristwatch beeped. "Oh crap. I gotta go or I'm going to be late," she muttered.

Ignoring the white-haired young man still perched on the stairs, Lady quickly scuffed down the last dribble of her cereal and hurried toward the clothe pile laying on an ottoman in the corner of the office. She looked so girlish, with dainty flat shoes, long black socks, pleated skirt, long sleeved collared white shirt, a tie and a preppy pin-striped wool vest. She completed the look with a black suit jacket.

Dante watched her get dressed and marveled how his normally lusty mind hadn't thought of a good lecherous comment yet. It was odd since he actively pursued the casual dating and tail chasing. Well, Lady was rather short and she was all elbows and knees. He liked his females soft and full-bodied, not all hard and bony like Lady. Hard to imagine that both he and Vergil had called her a "woman." Back to the problem at hand and his gnawing curiosity at Lady's comment. "Where are you going? What do you mean you're going to be late?"

"School starts in about an hour, my bike is totaled, I haven't had the chance to go get another one so it's the half an hour bus ride," Lady answered absentmindedly as she kicked her toes to fit her feet into the shoes. Judging by the rather drab style on the shoes, there was no doubt that even the footwear was part of a uniform. It was a little weird to see her not in combat boots.

The answer struck Dante as completely outrageous. "You're still in school?"

Lady spared a moment to look at him oddly. "Yes. I'm still in high school. I'm only sixteen." She saw the confused look on her friend's face and frowned herself. She thought Dante was much more perceptive his surroundings and the happenings of his newest roommate. She could've sworn she told him at least two months ago when he was absently turning the pages of one of his raunchy magazines. "Where did you think I disappear off to during the day?"

A few other thoughts went through Dante's mind instead. First of all, he had never realized that Lady was underage. The scenario had always been likely, but she had seemed too angry at him most of the time to be one of those hormone-driven, lusty teenage females who kept on making passes at him. Second of all, anything that even has a hint of being statutory was a bad for his reputation. And why in the world was he even caring about human law anyways? He was an ass-kicking half-demon who feared no law!

"I just thought that you were making your networks and buying all those bullets," Dante found himself saying instead.

"Well, the armaments shop is on the way," Lady explained, "And I attend a prep school so most of my classmates have rich and powerful parents who could pay for demon extermination."

Dante took a while to let that sink in. What exactly was he doing with a high schooler living at his shop and home? This was bound to get looks of disapproval from his usual acquaintances. Even thieves and rogues valued honor. There was nothing honorable in consorting with someone who was technically not old enough to buy cigarettes yet.

"I'm a junior," Lady further explained as she stooped down to tie her shoes. "but don't worry. I've already been accepted to a university and school is easy. So I can do that job you mentioned to me last night." She ran off into an adjacent room. She popped right back out in less than ten seconds with a thin black case that had an embroidered word, "Saint Augustine" before running out of the front door. "See you."

As Dante watched her go, Dante tried to process all the things that occurred this morning. He just learned that this fearless demon huntress was underage. Lady did eat rabbit food. Most of all, she had just moved in without even telling him. At least one easy mystery was solved by their strange morning conversation. It was so extraordinary that Dante had to say it out loud, a minute after the front door slammed.

"Well, now I know she really is flat-chested."

Author's Note: This came out of a Christmas Themed story that I wrote years ago, after playing DMC 3. I hope you enjoyed reading.


	2. Chapter 2 - My Old Lady

Site Down - Chapter 2 - My Old Lady

Lady was pissed off.

Of course, that was not far from her default mode. She had the proverbial resting bitch-face that promised a quick death to anyone who met her eyes. Even her faint smile looked like she was about to roundhouse kick someone's consciousness into next week. She was the grimmest female Dante had ever come to know. Lady was all hard, full of guns and violence.

She also happened to be his roommate. One day she suddenly decided to take over the fourth floor of his shop. This was not a big deal since their daily schedules and jobs did not match most of the time. She was an early bird and he was a night owl. There was an empty floor between their rooms that they mostly did not hear each other. He almost never saw her during the week, outside the times when she left for and came home from school. The only time he saw her consistently were on the weekends or on jobs that required the both of them. Even during those times, they barely acknowledged each other, usually focused on the task at hand rather than on general pleasantries.

Still, her presence was known by things like her nasty habit of burning scented candles. It was hard for people and demons to take him seriously when he and his shop smelled of sweet peas and orchids. Then she leaves her personal hygiene products around the shop which was not too terrible since there is finally hand soap in the bathrooms now. On the plus side, the pizza boxes seemed to clean themselves up every couple of days.

That was not to say that Lady was a freeloader at the shop. She paid Dante rent, which really amounts to nothing since he really has no luck when betting against Lady on anything.

Having a roommate would not be an issue, if not for the fact that Lady who, without trying, had a habit of convincing his flings that he was some sort of nut job.

For example, on a Friday night, Dante brought home a sweet buxom woman named Jazmin. Or was it Rose? He could never get their names straight. Anyways, the chick had the most gorgeous red hair and a manufactured but cute accent. They both had some fun with each other then talked deep into the night, mostly about Jazmin's money and family troubles. She talked about her daddy issues and how men used her. She lavished praised on Dante, talking about strong he was and what a complete gentleman and how appreciative she was of such a strong man. Jazmin spoke all the sweet words that a man wants to hear and believe about himself and swore eternal love for the handsome devil.

Then Lady came back from an early morning job, with a person in tow.

That Saturday morning, Jazmin, who got up early, tried to leave, just in time to see Lady.

Lady did not seem to be aware of a random chick that Dante brought home was watching her from the second floor landing that overlooked the main office area of the shop. Instead, the demon huntress focused on dragging a fat man behind her. The man was heavily bruised. Purple welts on the face and all. The man was wearing a fancy suit that was about two sizes too small. With nearly inhuman strength, this all sticks and bones girl tossed the man against the dirty floor, making sure the back of the man's head smacked against the ground.

"Wake up!" the girl hissed at the man whom she just gave another bruise. "Or I will break your arm in three places instead of two."

Jazmin, confused and afraid, rushed quietly back to Dante's room. The red head shook Dante awake.

"Dante! Get up! Someone from the mob broke into your house! She's about to kill him! You gotta fight them off!" Jazmin said in an urgent whisper.

The devil hunter, still in his boxers, blinked his bleary eyes. He was having a rather pleasant dream that was slowly morphing into a headache. Why did he have a headache? Probably from all the drinking he did last night to tune out whatever Jazmin was saying. Sometimes, he wondered what good was demon blood for if it did not prevent hangovers. Dante rubbed his temples."What? What are you talking about, babe?"

"There's a pipsqueak downstairs, threatening to torture a poor man."

"Pipsqueak?" Dante frowned a little. His reputation had grown enough to the point that the human soldiers of mobs avoided his shop. Who else freely come in and out? "Does this pipsqueak have something that looks like a rocket launcher strapped to her back?" At Jazmin's confounded expression, Dante further explained. "Something that looks like an overly thick square dance pole."

Jazmin thought about it, then nodded. "Yes. Now did you mention it."

"Oh. That's just my roommate," said Dante, turning over on his side, relaxed and ready to go back to sleep. "She's probably just working out her anger issues on whoever pissed her off. Leave her be."

Jazmin, however, was put off. "Roommate? I didn't know you have a roommate! I thought you own this place!"

"I do," said Dante with a yawn. He winced slightly as he heard a loud crash. There was the wet smash sound of something pounding flesh followed by a pained groan. That did not sound good. In fact, that sounded like someone was more pissed off than normal. For the sake of keeping the damage down, he really should go down there and referee. Lady can get rather indiscriminate when she was in one of her moods. Sighing at having to get up early with a headache, Dante sat up and blinked sleepily at Jazmin. First of all, he needed to get this pretty woman out. "You know what babe, you probably should sneak out through the fire escape before Lady finds you here. "

"Wha? Fire escape? No! I'm not a cheap whore to leave by the fire escape!" In her mind, she and Dante are an official item and she should be displayed as one.

But Dante was not paying attention. He was up now, digging through a clothes drawer, ignoring the screaming and the muffled cries from downstairs. "Seriously. Go before my roommate starts shooting. She normally aims at me, but I don't want you to get in the crossfire."

"You have a roommate who shoots you?" asked Jazmin incredulously.

Dante turned to look at her. He seemed to consider the statement, thinking about the many times they had pointed a gun at each other. Man, those could be fun times. "Yeah."

"She's an ex-girlfriend of yours, isn't she?" Jazmin suddenly deduced.

At that, Dante blinked, then started laughing at the preposterous idea. He cut the laughter short when he heard another yell from downstairs. "Babe, like seriously, you need leave," said Dante.

Jazmin's face contorted into a knowing smile, like someone who had caught their lover cheating. "You know what, I think she's just here to scare me off. And that actor she dragged in is a nice touch. Well, I'm going to show her that we're a real couple."

Dante was so dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events that he could not think of a quick response. It was really early in the morning, he still had a slight headache, and he was still mesmerized by the voluminous red hair. Seriously, do women not know how easily men are distracted by pretty womanly things? Before he could say anything to make Jazmin stay in the room, the girl was already out the door. Dante was left alone in the room, confounded. "Aw. Damn it!"

Jazmin stumped downstairs, ready to have a cat-fight with an ex-girlfriend. She reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see the man fleeing the shop with a limp, sobbing.

The pubescent girl, with the weird name of "Lady," had her arms crossed. It appeared that this girl's initial peevishness was quelled. Then Lady turned her eyes to Jazmin.

Jazmin had to suppress the initial shiver down her spine. This girl had heterochromia, with one red and one blue eye. Then to top it off, Jazmin noticed the belt with bullet clips and holsters of a variety of handguns. And was that a bayonet at the end of that overly thick squarish pole on her back?

Mustering up courage, Jazmin stalked to the girl. Ha! This pipsqueak was clearly a head shorter and there were some pale but rather obvious faded scars. "Listen you little hussy, Dante is mine."

Lady gave her a bland stare as she looked up, like a predator ready for the kill. There were also bags underneath her eyes, evidence that it had already been a long day, despite that it was early morning. She must had been out all night. "You can keep him." There were no minced words.

Reverse psychology was a domain of females and Jazmin just knew that this little runt really meant to fight her for Dante. "You're just jealous that he likes me instead of you," said Jazmin. "That you have no ass, no chest, no womanly..."

Jazmin was promptly cut off by the feeling of a warm gun barrel against the bottom of her jaw. The woman immediately threw her hands up.

"Please shut up," Lady said quietly. "It's only been an hour since this gun killed something and I'm tempted to shut you up permanently with it."

"Lady!" yelled Dante from the second-floor banisters. He had decided to make himself presentable since Lady did not like him to prance around shirtless. For the sake of the peace, he figured that he could at least throw on a shirt and a pair of pants. He honestly did not think that the situation would escalate this much. In his hands were Jazmin's personal effects like purses, coat, and of course, her pay. "Remember one of my rules? You can only shoot me in the shop! Not other people, especially humans!"

"Shoot you? Humans?" Jazmin whispered. Was Dante being serious? Did he really have a standing policy about gunfights? Why was he even saying humans as if Jazmin was another specie?

"But I'm tired," Lady grumped quietly, as if that excuse gave her the permission to dish out undue violence.

"Lady. Please calm down!" Dante said, trying to placate the girl. He was already down the stairs, slowly approaching the pair as if he was a negotiator at a hostage situation. "If you put the gun down now, I will...I'll take you shopping!"

"Yes, put the gun down," Jazmin added, with some urgency.

Lady did not seem to listen. Instead, she tipped toed, released the safety on the gun, got really close to Jazmin's ear and whispered. "Bang."

A stream of yellow liquid trailed down Jazmin's legs.

Lady withdrew from Jazmin, her proverbial resting bitch face slightly relaxed. The demon huntress pulled the gun back, to squeeze the trigger a couple of time. Nothing came out. "No danger. The clip is empty," she noted calmly like she was narrating a golf tournament.

Dante used this chance distraction to dump Jazmin's personal effects in her hands. "I really think you should go now, Jazmin," He even sounded contrite.

To Jazmin's credit, she did not faint. Tears welled up in her eyes as she quickly veered away from him. More embarrassed that she lost control of her bodily fluid than anything. She slammed the front door open and screamed at him. "F- you Dante and your chest-less broad! You're crazy and your ex-girlfriend here is an absolute psycho! You two deserve each other." She ran a little ways away then shouted. "And the name is Rose!"

To Dante's memory, this scene had repeated itself a number of times.

Dante rubbed the back of his neck after the woman was out of sight. "Geez, Lady. This is like the sixth babe you've chased off, and you've only been here for like...a month or something? And I don't think you're even trying," Dante complained.

Lady did not say anything. She stood there, her resting bitch face soften to merely expressionless and her eyes were unfocused.

Dante waved a hand in front of her eyes, now getting concerned by the lack of a biting remark. "Lady? Earth to Lady? Are you in there?"

"So...tired." Lady promptly went limp and fell against him.

Dante caught her just before she hit the ground. She was as light as he remembered, but now was not the time to think about her weight.

"Lady? Lady?!" Dante called at her limp body. Crap! Was she injured from a job? Was she sick? Did she eat something weird? He was not prepared to take care of another human! He was nearly indestructible so he never had to learn how to treat wounds or recover from illness. Lady always took too good care of herself so Dante did not even keep an emergency kit handy. He quickly carried her bridal style to the couch at the corner of the shop to check her out.

The first thing on his mind was to check her torso. Even for him, the injuries to the chest and stomach hurt the most and took the longest to recover. He checked her exposed stomach and it seemed fine. Lady appeared to have been very good at avoiding injuries there. Now for her upper torso that was clothed by her usually well starched collared white shirt. However, when his hands landed on the first button of her shirt, he hesitated as a nasty realization smacked him in the head.

 _My god! Dante, you just tried to undress a minor! You're a sicko!_ his internal narrative scolded initially.

 _So what? I was technically a minor less than two years ago!_ he defended himself against that pesky conscience.

That excuse did not work. That conscience continued to scold him, adding some choice expletives.

Feeling more than frustrated his annoying moral sense, he decided to check the extremities instead. She could've have gotten a poisonous bite on her legs! There was nothing wrong with checking out legs. So he quickly pulled off her boots to check and see if she was bleeding or something from her lower extremities.

Nope. She was not bleeding, or have a swelling wound, or a bug bite. But her legs were sure quite supple and rather shapely. And how the hell does she still smell like sweet peas and orchids after being out all day? Was this some sort of female magic to always smell so nice at all times?

Then he checked her arms to make sure that she wasn't bleeding from there either. She was not bleeding or bruised and her pulse was strong and rather steady...?

Dante frowned. Did he miss something? It was then that he noted the steady rise and fall of Lady's chest. Her lips were slightly parted and there appears to be drool in the corner of her mouth. Blue eyes narrowing in suspicion, he pulled his head closer to her head.

She was snoring.

"Are you f-ing kidding me?" Dante asked no one in particular. He could not believe it. Lady had just beat the pulp out of some random dude and pretend that she was about to blow the brains out of his flings less than ten minutes ago and she is now out like a light? In which Twilight Zone did a girl like this exist?

Lady stirred a little and goosebumps appeared all over her arms and legs. She turned on the couch, crossing her arms a little to keep warm.

Without thinking too much about it, Dante quietly went back up the stairs to his room. He quickly came back out with a well-worn ordinary tan colored throw blanket. Then, like a concerned brother, he placed the blanket over the slightly quivering girl. Unconsciously, Lady curled up a little, lightly wrapping the blanket around her.

After that step was done, Dante walked around the windows of the shop, adjusting the blinds and curtains closed to keep out the street light and coming dawn. While he performed the mindless activity, he thought back to Temen-ni-gru. He recalled the divine library and how she challenged him, despite how worn out she was and how she put up a good fight.

It all made sense now. Lady became more belligerent the more tired she got. It was why Lady resorted to physically beating someone instead of using her usual verbal threats to get what she wanted. She was simply too tired to judge the appropriate level of forceful persuasion.

Why did he always have the bad luck of being closest to people with anger problems?

Now, with all the action over, Dante thought about what he was to do next. The curtains are all closed so Lady should have no problem sleeping for a while. It was Saturday and more than anything else, he would rather go back to bed and probably visit a diner for some sweets afterward. There was a job lined up tonight as usual and being well rested would be a good thing.

He looked over to Lady and scratched that idea. He did run a devil hunting agency and there was no telling when a bad ass demon was going to bust through his door and start a fight. The demon he would gladly engage and split into two. The likely negative reaction of a suddenly roused awake Lady he would rather avoid.

He could move her to her room, which he was certain had some magical protection spells to keep the nightmarish monsters in their lives out. Still, it would be strange to barge into her space without being invited. He could move her to his own heavily warded bedroom, but Lady might misunderstand when she wakes up in his bed.

Dante went back to the couch to check on her again. He laughed internally, seeing that drool had left a trail down her jaw and was now pooling on the sofa. He was not sure why, but he went into the bathroom and got a towel. Deliberately like someone trying to look after a toddler, he carefully wiped the drool off. He snickered to himself when he realized that she really was dead to the world. He had imagined her to be tough even in sleep, ready to snap and defend herself at the slightest provocation. Right now, she was just another human girl, needing someone to watch over her while she slept.

She shivered again. At this, Dante pulled on the blanket, careful to cover every exposed finger and toes. Being so physically close to her, without being automatically threatened by her, was a strange experience. He felt an urge to lean down and give her a sleepy-bye kiss on the forehead like one of those corny TV sitcoms. He never had an opportunity to do so with someone who wasn't a stripper.

 _She's a minor!_ that irritating inner narrative yelled at him again, just as the physical distance between him and Lady got a little too close.

Dante shook his head as he pulled away, almost in awe of how restrained he had to be around a girl who had literally crashed into his life from the sky. He stood up and crossed his arms, bemused.

"Keep this up and I'll have to start calling you 'my old lady.'"


	3. Chapter 3 - Trembling

AN: Some creative license here on what happened to Dante as a kid. I wrote most of this while listening to Unsteady by X Ambassadors. Much thanks to Meech Macko, JightJakeRises and for leaving reviews. I do read them in order to improve my craft, seeing how I actually write technical and legal mambo jumbo for a living, might as well practice creative writing while I'm at it. I was surprised how long this become, by the time I finished. Ah yeah, don't fact-check the law about adult entertainment establishments and alcohol. I know what I'm describing isn't correct in most places. Down the Hatch is an actual bar. And for those who watched the anime, this is not the same Freddie.

Updated 11/9/16 to fix some grammar and spelling errors.

Sit Down - Chapter 3 - Trembling

One of Dante's best traits was his indomitable spirit in the face of adversity. He had learned to cope by laughing through all the crap that went wrong in his life. When he went hungry in foster care, he smiled and joked to distract the store clerk while he pilfered from the candy rack. When there was no cake on his birthday anymore, he made Molotov cocktail his birthday candles and Everclear his cake, chuckling drunkenly all the way. When he no longer had his twin or mother to keep him warm and safe during cold nights, he grabbed a hot water bottle and later, when he was older, he visited the strip clubs and listened to women whisper one line jokes to him while he held them close.

There was no expectation that life was going to be happy like the fairy tales. His mother told him so when he had caught her in tears as a child who could not sleep. She had smiled at him and hugged him then, as he tried one of his impersonations to cheer her up. His annoying twin later came to drag him back to bed, berating Dante for keeping their tired mother from sleeping. Dante had justified his action by telling Vergil about how mom was happy because he made her laugh and smile. Vergil had rightfully told him then and there that smiles are only facades to cover the ugliness underneath.

His twin was right, of course.

Dante knew that deep own, his many coping techniques left him feeling empty inside. The act of doing something, anything, distracted him from that creeping demon madness that constantly hounded him. His demon side demanded bloodshed, lust, and conflict. The fighting and the pain from bruises and cuts made him feel alive like nothing else. The casual association with free woman sated the lust. The drinking made him forget the conflict. His human side balked at such insanity and made him highly aware of the level of screwed up his life was, compared to what was typical for a nineteen-year-old.

Things were looking up, though. Dante no longer had the money problems to the point that he went hungry on a regular basis anymore. He had his own devil hunting shop and even had a great job with regular doses of carnage to satisfy his need for violence. He even got a pretty side-kick, despite how she occasionally turned into a villain when she was tired and peeved.

Now if only he never got another shit job that reminded him of his messed up life experience was, that would be good.

He had been called by the city police, which in itself, should have warned him not to take this job. When the more savory people came to him with requests, it usually meant that it was something that even the veterans would not get their hands dirty for. In this case, it was a demon possession.

One of the desperate people in the ghetto areas had turned to the arcane to reverse their financial troubles. Normally, this would not have been a problem since it was a case of a human wannabe sorcerer who attempted the spell. Too many things can go wrong. A mispronounced incantation, the wrong blood type, a wrongly drawn symbol, even bad breath, could all lead to calling an uncontrolled demon that ultimately ate or possessed the summoning sorcerer. The problem usually solved itself.

In this case, a father of two children had summoned a demon of fortune. Due to his blatant ineptitude in the occult, the demon ended up possessing him instead. Even that in itself would not have kicked the case to Dante until the man started to kill the neighbors, put up wards to prevent mechanical firepower and opening portals.

The scene at the low-income housing block was bloody as usual by the time Dante arrived. There were several police cars with their red and blue strobe lights on and yellow caution tape everywhere. The building in question appeared to have its electricity cut.

"Well, this can't be good," Dante observed mildly at the dismembered and crushed corpses that littered the pavement outside the block. A compliment riot police were there to push back the onlookers. From what Dante can tell, someone had decided that cutting people jugular and throwing them off the roof was amusing. The smell of blood was in the air and that mere scent promised excitement.

"Ah. There you are, Mr. Redgrave," called a policeman. He was a middle age looking man, straight-laced with the appropriate blue-collared uniform and slightly portly body that indicated that he had a wife who fed him well. The man had dirty blonde hair and a neatly trimmed mustache.

"You must be...Morrison," said Dante, extending a hand for a handshake. Dante was in his usual gear, red coat, combat boots, under clothes, fingerless gloves, guns in holsters and Rebellion strapped prominently on his back. In a straight job like this, there was no reason to hide the tools of his trade.

The said Morrison had to frown at Dante's appearance. The young man sure stuck out, with that outfit, white hair and a rather attractive face. But that was not what caught his attention. This had to be a kid. Despite the height and build, Dante was far too lanky to have the experience to do a job like this. There was still baby fat on his face. "Aren't you a little...young, to be doing this type of work?"

Dante gave Morrison a look. "I can go home, if you want."

"No...no. Stay," Morrison said immediately. "The chief is desperate to get this under control but he did not want the embarrassment of calling in the military. We had heard from some reliable informants that you're the handyman who handles jobs like this."

"You got that right." Dante looked at the building. There were a scream and growl. Dante rubbed his hands together in anticipation of spilling demon blood, a grin on his face.

Morrison had to frown. What type of trauma did this young man experience to smile in face of flat out butchery? "Jenny briefed you on phone, right? Of the situation?"

Dante nodded. "Demonic possession with portals. It's gonna cost ya. You got payment?"

Morrison handed over a slip of paper and a stack of bills. "The number on the paper is the total. Five percent cash upfront, eighty percent wired to your account upon completion, and the remaining fifteen percent if the portals are closed a month from now."

Dante glanced at the number and nodded, satisfied. Next, he quickly counted the bills. He noted that much of the money appeared to have been soaked in blood recently with an attempt to mop the crimson liquid off. Just smelling the bills told him that the blood was human. "Let me guess, the last guy didn't work out."

The policeman vaguely gestured to a headless muscular body near the front door of the building block. "Got tossed out a window within ten minutes of going in. Think you can handle it?"

Dante stuffed the bloodied bill into an inner pocket then gave two thumbs up and a cheeky smile. "Of course."

Morrison handed then handed him a flare. "Use this when the coast is clear."

The demon hunter found another pocket to stow the flare. He then walked toward the building, waving a hand as he was about to enter. "See you at the after party!"

Morrison watched Dante's image disappear behind the main lobby doors, incredulous and worried. He had never seen this young man before, and the sheer bravado this kid exhibited was either foolishness or insanity. How was the young suppose to see in the dark without a flashlight? And what type of a fallen world did they live in when young men are sent off to kill?

Immediately, there were gun shots and inhuman groans of agony.

Inside the building, Dante was enjoying himself. Misshapen monsters came at him in the dark and he successfully cut and shot them down. His demon side was thoroughly elated by the hunt, the bloodbath, and freedom from human restraint. These bastards were of a medium challenge too. They were the ones that laugh and move about in the shadows, but that only made the hunt even more engaging and entertaining.

Dante did not let himself to be completely lost in his delight of havoc. There were portals to close and that took some mental concentration, time, a couple of trusty paper talismans and a pink glue stick. When he worked on closing them, he that wondered if it was possible to go through those portals himself. He was a curious person and he had thought about going and exploring his father's home. There was a part of him that yearned to know where he came from, be it demon or human. Considering the large hoards devils he had met and dealt with, there had to be some creatures in hell who are technically related to him by blood. And while he was there, maybe he could go find his thick-headed twin and deck him for being an ass.

He tried it. He poked a portal experimentally and hit firm resistance. He had expected that, though. Most portals were one way did not work for high-level demons and humans. He happened to be both. For him, he would need something on the level of Temen-ni-gru if he wished to entertain such curiosity.

"Son of Sparda," came a low hiss as the portal Dante was working on closed.

Dante turned to see a naked, overweight, middle-aged, balding man shuffling toward him. The man's body bulged and contorted as if there was something inside him, anxious to get out.

"Figure that I'd run into you eventually," Dante said, pulling Rebellion from the holster on his back to his shoulder instead, hanging an arm over the hilt like a baseball bat. He had to be more alert here. Demons that spoke words were a sign of higher intelligence and power. Ones that could reason through, could become devil arms.

"Son of the traitor," the man continued to mouth in that hiss. "Spawn of filth."

Dante rolled his eyes. Where had he heard that broken record? Why did his father have to go piss off so many in hell? "Whatever. Just get out of the man's skin already," Dante said impatiently, "I want to kill you, properly."

The man's torso deformed and it puked up pungent green liquid. Then, a claw poked through the man's pelvis and cut vertically up to the head. Like a molting snake, the pure-blooded demon stepped out of its human covering. The demon had the traditional jutting jaw, exposed fangs, claws, several black stingers, and red eyes. It had four limbs, and it walked on the ground like a spider, its head twisted upside down, like a broken toy.

"Man, you're ugly," Dante commented.

"I am Armadul," the creature introduced itself. "Mundus will richly reward me for your death."

The demon skittered toward him, closing the distance between them with a blink of an eye. Dante pulled up Rebellion just in time to block several strikes by the clawed limbs. He gritted his teeth as he felt a couple of stinger pokes into his chest. The poison was not a bad one, but it still made the muscles ache.

No time to think now. Armadul attacked him relentlessly, pincers and stingers striking whenever it could. The creature, having had four stabilizing limbs and several stingers, nimbly skirted around Dante's sword, going up the wall and ceiling. It laughed, yelling out more insults only to be cut short by bullets. It only started to take this half-breed seriously, when it started to be attacked by the man's shadow.

Finally, after exchanging many blows, Dante skewered the Armadul in the chest, pinning the creature to the ground. The stingers now all shot off. A pool of green blood started to spread underneath Armadul.

"That was fun," Dante said with a smile, his demon side now mollified. Armadul had been a worthy but short-lived opponent. He pulled Rebellion up and slammed the claymore down on the creature's face, effectively cutting it in half and spilling brain matter. "Thank you."

There was no more demonic energy now. Dante breathed a sigh of satisfaction of the blood, guts and glory he had participated in. Now it was time to go fire off the flare and get his pay.

He was going toward a window when he bypassed a room full of bodies. It appeared that Armadul, or whatever came through the portals, did not toss everyone off of the roof.

Dante passed by a few more rooms before he saw something moved in one of the hallways that ended with a window to the outside. There was a crack in the wall, and that crack moved!

Dante immediately pointed Ivory at the crack. He did not sense any demonic energy left in the building, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Bits of plaster and concrete fell away, a mini dust cloud escaped from the wall and a small hand reached out. There was some coughing as the dust cleared.

It an eight-year-old boy. One of those typical looking kids, with dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. He wore a plain t-shirt, denim overalls and sneakers. The kid had obviously been in middle of a slaughter at some point, his clothes and shoes were stained with dried blood. The kid was incredibly calm, despite what had occurred in the building.

Dante could relate. He recalled something similar that happened to himself. He was pretty chill too, initially. The worse was yet to come. Dante put Ivory away in its holster.

"Hey kid," Dante called, "you okay?"

The kid looked around to see Dante. The kid seemed relaxed to see that it was person."Yes."

"What's your name?" Dante asked.

"Jason," the kid answered innocently.

"Well, Jason. You're safe now."

The kid immediately perked up. "Really!? The monsters are gone?"

Dante nodded. "I'm pretty sure."

"I gotta go tell mom!" The kid scampered off through the maze of the hallways.

 _God damn it!_ Dante cursed internally. Just because the place was safe from demonic attacks did not mean that the place was safe from other harm. Humans were just as capable of hurting other humans. Dante was repeatedly taught that lesson. Plus, he destroyed some building supports and it would be bad if the kid gets crushed by a falling roof or something. He chased after the kid for only a short while.

The kid had entered a room that appeared to be the bedroom of a crack den. There was a stained brown comforter on the corner, trash, condom wrappers and hypodermic needle surrounding the comforter. Laying in the middle of the comforter were two bodies. An obviously dead middle aged portly woman, holding another child.

"Mommy, wake up," the kid named Jason shook the body of the portly woman. When there was no response, he shook her more vigorously. "Mommy. It's safe now. This man said so." Still no movement. She was dead as a doornail. The kid still did not understand and he shook her some more until she flipped over. The expression her face was one of shock and horror. Her eyes bugged out. The front of her dress soaked through with blood from a familiar cut in her jugular. Dante could tell that this woman was a likely drug user, judging by the indentions in the crook of her arm.

Jason bite back a gasp but did not cry. He was a big boy and big boys suck it up. Instead, he focused on the child that the dead woman was holding. Dante could tell that this poor kid must be dead too. There was an obvious gash in the stomach with entrails peeking out. Blood was everywhere.

"Big brother," the little boy nudged the unmoving body that was similar to his size. "Wake up. It's safe now."

"Big brother, please wake up," the kid pleaded again, his words more urgent than before. "What am I going to do without you?" He begged, again and again, not noticing that the hunter had ducked back into an empty, dark hallway.

"WAHHHH!" The kid started to wail. The kid was slowly realizing that there was no waking his family up.

Dante found himself squatting in that hallway, listening to the kid's words. When the kid started crying, he using the palm of his hands to cover his ears. That did not work as well because his accursed acute hearing allowed him full comprehension of the little boy's begging request and growing despair.

The sound broke through much of the protective mental walls Dante had built up. In his mind's inner eye, he saw the moment his own mother was killed and feeling that thick crimson wetness spatter on his face. He remembered discovering his twin's broken body and that instant fear, agony, and grief of loss. He had asked them to wake up too, trying to delay the first time realization that there was no coming back from death.

He could not have gotten away from that accursed sound any faster. The signaling flare was shot off from a window.

Afterward, the police chief grilled him on the details. That was to be expected. Dante did not find the questioning bothersome. He had enough run-ins with the law that he had experienced most interrogations methods. He was used to the screaming and shouting both at the police station and in the many foster homes he had been in.

The police chief was a thorough professional, though. He had an even tone and asked the mandatory questions in a forceful but not irritatingly so manner. Dante kept his answers short, distracted by that kid who was finally being escorted out of the building.

The kid was still wailing away his heartache.

Dante kept on hearing that wailing sound over and over again, overlapping his own memory. He recalled hearing no other voices beside his own, and that fearful understanding the meaning of 'alone.'

"You okay, son?" the police chief asked, snapping Dante's attention back to the present. "You're trembling."

Dante immediately gave his ready smirk. "Of course. It's just the nerves."

"As I was saying. We're done here. The money will be wired to your account tomorrow. Do you need a ride back?"

"Nah. It's early and the bars haven't closed yet." As far as jobs go, this one was one of the quickest. Dante threw up a hand and waved. "Feel free to call me again when you need me."

* * *

Normally, when he felt even remotely bad, he went to the Love Planet. The strip bar was a place to lose himself within the heavily perfumed air, watered down drinks, and soft bodies of women. He had been there enough times, knew enough of the usual patrons that the owner turned a blind eye to the obviously fake identification card. Dante was also treated well there since he usually tipped highly. There was nothing wrong with helping ladies out.

This time, though, he did not want to go to Love Planet. He went to a bar called Down the Hatch.

Like most bars, this one was seedy. There were debris, stray cockroach, rat dropping and vomit on the floor. The lighting level was low enough that it would difficult to see people coupling in the corner booths.

Dante only came here because the people in this place mostly left him alone and did not ask too many questions. A few years back, he took a couple of bullets for the owner. Ever since then, the bar servers turned a blind eye to his age and not fuss over him about the weapons he carried on him. This bar also ignored the sobriety laws and kept on serving all the way to 6:00 a.m. It was also one of the cheapest places in the city and not too far off Devil May Cry. The best part about this bar was that there was no bar tab. All payments were upfront which meant that there was an artificial control over intake.

There were the usual customers milling about. The usual blue collar workers coming off their second shift drank merrily, exchanging war stories. The rebellious teenagers who pretended to be twenty-one exchanged happily getting disgustingly drunk because it was cool. The sleazeballs traded street secrets over finger foods and hard liquor.

When Dante entered, the customers turned to look at the outlandishly dressed man out of mild curiosity and boredom. They all returned to their own business quickly since rejects of society was expected in this place. Glad to be ignored, Dante picked his usual corner, the one closest to the emergency exit, next to the stack of extra stools, far away from the front door.

"Dante," greeted Freddie, the barkeep. Freddie was a big man, even bigger than Dante himself. He had a mean black beard, tattoo on all exposed limbs all the way up his neck, and a deep rumbling voice that kept most of the patrons in line. He was a softie at heart though and had known Dante during the young man's squeaky voice years. "What bring you to this sad place?"

The hunter gave his usual smirk, one that did not quite reach his eyes. "Shit job."

Freddie nodded emphatically. "I see. You want the usual or the Memory Basher?"

He pulled out a bloodied bill and placed it on the bar top. "Memory Basher. Neat. And whatever else this gets me."

Freddie took the bill and quickly placed it in a cashier's box. He thought quickly on what this particular patron wanted and still met out the drinks in somewhat responsible doses. Like too many kids he saw coming in and out of the place, Dante did not appear to have anyone who looked after him. With Dante's good looks, it was a miracle that he hadn't fallen into some sort of sex trafficking scheme or overdosed on drugs by now. "Coming right up."

Dante watched as a couple of shot glasses of cheap whiskey was placed before him.

"You okay man?" Freddie asked as he served the drink. "You're shaking."

"I will be, after this," Dante answered smoothly as he threw the drink back.

The fire ran down his esophagus, into his stomach, warming his body. Then the effect went the opposite direction, up his neck and head, immediately stirring his brain.

Feeling somewhat more steady, Dante deliberately checked out his hand. There was still a slight tremor and his heart was still pounding louder than usual. His mind still recalling that wail.

Dante rubbed his face and dragged a hand through his hair, mentally going over the events of the night.

It was bad. He had not had a forced mental distraction like that in a long while, not since he was the orphanage. In the beginning, he had cried a lot. The crying subsided quickly when he realized that there was no twin to chide him for being a crybaby or beat off the bullies who picked on him. That was really the last time he really pondered clearly about that awful event because, in short order, he became too busy protecting and looking after himself. He learned quickly that bluff and bluster could work just as well as real power.

In a way, Dante understood what Vergil had said at the tower. Without power, there was no protection. The tragic death of their mother and subsequent separation was a result of their lack of power. The social injustices that Dante experienced was also a result of that same lack. And if Vergil had not goaded him incessantly, make him fight over some stupid unwanted prize, perhaps Dante would not have learned the devil trigger, obtain all those devil arms and learn more fighting skills in short days versus years.

At some point, Freddie placed a couple of whiskey on the rocks in front of Dante. The young man said nothing as took another swig then pressed the cold rocks glass against his cheek, his mind going through loops of many life events, circling back to Vergil.

He hadn't thought too much of his estranged twin since Temen-ni-gru. Another gross reminder of how messed up his relationships were. It should have been them against the world. They were so close as children, and Dante never knew the what "alone" meant until that awful day when he thought Vergil died. When they met again, everything was like a messed up Grimm Fairy Tale. They ended up fighting each other, their accursed demon blood demanded conflict with the person who matched them the closest, deriving twisted pleasure from trying to kill each other, just like how Dante enjoyed killing demons now. The same blood that drove Vergil to desire power and chose near certain death in hell over his last living relative.

Time passed and some more alcohol was consumed, yet Dante felt barely inebriated. The alcohol that was supposed to make him forget lost their usual potency whenever he allowed the demonic side some control. He still felt the adrenaline high that came from killing demons, which added to his own unique physiology, dull the effect of all drugs. His mind was still racing, hearing that wailing sound, reliving the most awful moment in his life over and over again.

At one point, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was late, or early, depending on the person's perspective. His head was clearing so he won't be stumbling, but he would get a headache. He should go home. He liked to think that someone left the exterior lights on back at the shop, an indication that he was wanted and expected. He would, however, not care for her sharp tongue at the moment.

He looked at his hands again. They were still shaking slightly. There was no way he was going back and letting Lady seeing him like this. She might tease him and ask him questions he did not want to answer. Maybe he should wait until the day time when he knew that she was at school. He should probably go find a motel or something to sleep this off.

The door to the bar opened, striking the tiny bell that alerted the establishment of a new customer. Dante suddenly caught the familiar subtle scent of sweet peas and orchids. He looked from the corner of his eyes.

It was Lady!

The other patrons of the bar also looked up. It was uncommon for females who were not prostitutes to be there and that in itself was rare. Down the Hatch was a proper poor man's bar. Plus, it was some time after the devil's hour. Who would even be up this early?

Lady was in her preparatory school uniform, complete with long socks, knee length pleated skirt, starched white collared shirt, the preppy vest, tie and dainty little leather shoes. She looked out of place in this place of blue denim, smell of sweat and work boots. Yet she scanned the establishment like a stalking jaguar, completely at ease. Once she saw the familiar red coat, she boldly walked toward him, taking care not to dirty her footwear on vomit and rat droppings.

Her arrival had also attracted the attention of another.

A local pimp was sizing her up, looking at her with a barely concealed leer. He was much taller and bigger than her, wearing a greasy, pit-stained shirt and clearly unshaven. To a pimp's eyes, she looked dressed and ready for one of those school girl fantasy porn.

"Hey little girl, whatcha doing in this part of town?" the pimp said while he checked her out. He was sitting down. This one seemed innocent and may even have her purity intact. He could get a pretty sum for her.

Lady glared at him and that look obviously balked the man. Her heterochromatic eyes had that effect on people, more so than Dante's sharp blue eyes. She tried to sidestep the man, intent on completely ignoring him.

An arm shot out, grabbing her arm before she could pass by completely. "Hey. I'm talking to you."

Lady gave an annoyed scowl. "Don't touch me," Lady said, barely above a whisper.

The pimp sneered. "Or you'll do what?"

And just like that, the man was thrown against a table, knocking over chairs and whatever plate, cups, silverware, and bits of leftover food. There was an obvious intention on the man's face. Dante saw Lady's impassive expression as she surreptitiously slipped the brass knuckles into her skirt pocket.

The pimp recovered relatively slowly. He attempted to another grab at Lady only to have his own momentum used against him. This time, he tapped his temples violently against a wooden building support pole, nearly knocking him out.

"Hey! If you're going to fight, then take it outside!" Freddie barked at the barely coherent pimp more than Lady. Freddie was secretly rooting for Lady anyways. Women and children were too easily taken advantage of. It's nice to know that there are those who could defend themselves.

Dante let out a breath that he did not even know he was holding. He watched as Lady gave the man a kick to the family jewels as a last insult before the man has a chance to recover.

She sauntered over to Dante like she was strolling through a mall. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the strands that had become unruly during the brief scuffle.

"And leading lady makes her dramatic entrance," Dante commented, a smile automatically graced his lips. He welcomed the distraction. "Watcha doin' here?"

"I woke up and I didn't hear you snore when I passed your room," Lady said simply as she hopped onto an empty stool next to him. "So I came to find you."

Dante glanced at the clock. He did some mental gyrations on time. "You wake up at what, 3 a.m?"

"On most days," she said.

Oh. That further explained why they really do not see each other. That was usually when he was dead asleep, night jobs notwithstanding. "Insomnia?"

"No. It's just quiet enough for me to do homework."

Oh yeah. That's right. School has a habit of making students do a lot of scribbling for no reason. On to the other question on his mind. "How did you know that I'm here?"

"You talk. A **lot** ," she paused dramatically to drive home the point. "You've mentioned this place," there was a withering look, "among others."

Dante caught the euphemism on that last part. "Let me guess, you went to Love Planet first!" he said with a grin. He did go there more than anywhere else to pass the time so he must have mentioned it. He was certain that he had invited Lady a few time too because everyone needs a wingman or wingwoman. Most of those invitations resulted in dodging exercises.

There was a sigh in confirmation and shaking her head. "Judging by the reception and the chatter, some of the dancers seemed to know me for being at the shop. How many of those women have you brought back?"

Dante raised an eyebrow. Now he was imaging the women running away from Lady like the parting of the Red Sea. Well, probably not that dramatic, but close. In the end, he answered, "More than the number that you've chased off, that's for sure."

Lady gave him a blank look. "I chased off?"

"Don't you remember? You scared these chicks half to death."

"Not really."

"Not really?" Dante echoed incredulously. "I had to mop up their pee off the floor more than few times because of you."

"You bring back women who deliberately pee on your floor?"

Dante decided not to pursue that line of logic anymore. Either Lady was that forgetful or she really was clueless. Well, she was tired most of the time those women had the misfortune of meeting Lady. Maybe Lady had selective amnesia? Or maybe she was actually a complete ditz in disguise. She never did say anything after waking up from the couch that one time she fell dead asleep. She had stumbled back up the stairs to her own room and slept most of that weekend. At least, he thought she did. He did not keep close track on what she does with her time. "Never mind. How did you even get in Love Planet?"

"I can ask you the same thing. It's a nude club with open bar. The law says twenty-one and over." She looked around to make sure no one was listening and her voice level dropped to new low. "Both of us don't fit that description."

"I have my mysterious ways," whispered Dante with that annoying smirk. "You probably have a fake ID."

"Several," she said. "You do too, I imagine."

"A birthday and free buffet every month," Dante admitted. "The magnetic strips don't work, though."

At that, the corners of Lady's lips upturned slightly and her eyebrows furrowed as if she was confused. It almost seemed as if her lips was about to break into a smile. It was not one of her manic grins as she plowed through demons, she was crazy like that. No, she almost seemed amused by his response, like a normal person. The play of emotions across her face was quite appealing.

Their moment was interrupted by Freddie, who had finally gotten free to serve a new customer. "Dante. I see you brought in someone."

"Freddie," Dante acknowledged. "This is Lady. Lady, this is Freddie. He'll take good care of you."

The barkeeper frowned a little at the strange name but automatically smiled nonetheless. He reached over for a handshake.

"Hullo. I'm Dante's friend." She reached over to accord the man a proper greeting.

Freddie made sure to be gentle with the handshake. This was no doubt she was underage. Her hands were tiny. For Dante's sake, though, he was not about to raise the issue. This was the first time Freddie had ever seen Dante with someone who appeared to be from respectable society. Even if her eyes were strange looking.

"Well, pretty Lady, what can I get for you?" Freddie asked. "Payment is upfront."

Lady rummaged through her skirt pocket for money. Before she could fish out a bill though, Dante already slapped another bill down.

"Milk for her," Dante ordered. "Another one of my usual for me."

Now it was Lady's turn to gave an unbelieving expression. "Milk? Are you serious?"

"You're still growing," Dante reasoned for her. "No alcohol."

The response only made Lady frown and she crossed her arms. She gave one of her infamous chilled looks. "I can say the same for you."

"Well, you know I'm a special case." He grabbed the newly poured glass and was about to chug it down his throat when he felt a hand on his forearm, preventing him from a bottoms up.

"No," Lady said firmly. Without batting an eye, she snatched his drink from him and threw the liquid into a nearby bar sink.

The bartender, Freddie, stopped whatever he was doing and watched the scene. In his memory, Dante never had restrictions on his person. Even the women he brought in on occasion typically participated in his merrymaking. Did this little girl have a death wish?

"Hey! What gives?" Dante groused.

"I'm correcting what is wrong with this picture," said Lady reasonably. "You should take better care of yourself, despite your obvious advantages."

Dante had nothing to say to that. He had heard similar words from social workers, psychiatrists, and teachers at one point or another. Most of the time, those words just made him want to self-destruct because being pitied served only as a reminder that he had no one that he could trust or rely on and that he was mostly unwanted by society. The other people he associated with, the people he did rely on, like Enzo and his ilk, would have encouraged him to chug and admire him for his tolerance for alcohol.

Lady drank the milk that was brought to her, then she continued to talk. "Look, you're obviously brooding about something, and drinking isn't going to solve it. And no. I will not ask you about it because that's what led you here in the first place."

"You're full of charm, as usual," Dante bite out sarcastically. "A friend would've asked what's wrong."

Now Lady was getting a little pissed. Fortunately, she had enough sleep that her patience was still sufficient to continue their chat. It was something that's been festering between them for a while and she needed to get it out. "Dante. Our lives are fucked up. More importantly, our families are fucked up. You know it and I know it. We cope the best we can but sometimes, it's just not enough. Besides, I already know what's wrong with you and you will give me the run around if I ask."

"Then what's wrong with me?" he asked, feeling her hitting an exposed nerve.

"Dante, you talk. A lot," Lady repeated her earlier words. "In the months that we've known each other, live in the same place, you've made sure to keep on talking when I'm around. You tell me about all your jobs, about how women can't resist you, about this titty club and that hole-in-the-wall bar, about how your informants are crap, how your devil arms won't shut up. You even tell me about your mother and your father. But never once did you mention Vergil."

Dante slammed a fist on the bar top. The loud bang sound made Freddie and whoever still at the bar jump and look toward Dante's direction.

Lady sat stock still, her bi-colored eyes and expression gave nothing away. She knew when she had hit on a forbidden topic. She had seen Dante sad once, and there was a tear for a lost brother. He had blamed it on the rain at the time, but she knew better. The wound ran deep, like a knife stabbed into the chest and twisted so the wound not close. She could see his eyes flashing a demonic red, mixed emotions in his eyes. He had not yet made peace with what had happened and still held out hope that someday, somehow, his twin would return and there would be a normal happy ending.

Hope. Such a human conceit.

"Look. I won't say his name again. Not until you're ready," Lady declared. She then impulsively pulled on his hand. He needed to be distracted at this moment. That was the underlying technique in all coping mechanism. "Come on. Let's go home and get you cleaned off," her sense of smell had always been good and his current scent was offending her. "You stink of blood."

Dante did not pull his hand back from Lady. He allowed the girl to lead him out of the bar and toward the winding back alleyways toward Devil May Cry. It was unlike him to meekly allow a female to lead him. When he had his fun time with free women, he liked to be dominant, dictating how the evening would go so that the night would end to his satisfaction. Lady, though, had a strange effect on him. He had allowed her to invade his home and insert herself into his life without permission. He found out that he did not mind her intrusion.

It was like that time back at the tower all over again. He went in, not really giving a damn. then somehow, she made him care, made him want to make things right for her. He carried her rocket launcher like some sort of knight carrying a maiden's token into battle. Was her effect on him part of her powers as the descendent of the priestess whose blood had sealed Temin-ni-gru?

He kept on staring at her hand that held his hand, half dragging and half leading. He noted, perhaps for the first time, how delicate, soft and small that hand was compared to his own. All along their silent walk back to Devil May Cry, he kept on examining and observing the difference between their hands. She was steady in her grip of his hand. He was letting her pull him in whichever direction she wanted.

By the time they got back to the shop, he realized that his own hand was no longer trembling.


	4. Chapter 4 - Inheritance

AN: So this took me a lot longer than I thought it was going to take. And thanks very much to everyone who reviewed and are kind enough to follow/favorite the story! It spurs me on to write more knowing that this story is entertaining to someone. As usual, R&R, let me know what worked and what didn't.

Sit Down - Chapter 4 - Inheritance

Dante stared at a picture of Lady's mother.

The woman was of slender frame, with a mass of ebony hair, elegant nose, a soft face, strangely soulless violet eyes and unsmiling lips. It was obvious that Lady had vastly favored her mother in physical appearance, with that goody-goody-two-shoes-look of a person who would make a stodgy wife for a preacher. But that was where the similarities ended. Kalina Ann lacked her daughter's consuming fire. There was not a mark on the woman's face. In fact, Kalina Ann seemed dead by that thousand-mile stare in her eyes. If it was not for Dante's respect for Lady, he would've described Kalina Ann as a ghoul in the guise of a human woman.

They were at the estate where Lady grew up. It was a thirty-something-room Victorian style mansion with acres upon acres of forest and pasture land. There was an intricately designed wrought iron gate at the front, followed by nearly half a mile of driveway before the mansion came into view. The interior of the house was even fancier and gaudy. Stained-glass windows, exotic furniture, woven plush wool carpet, high-end finishings, ornate chandeliers and many beautiful, breakable things decorated the main hallway and common areas. They had passed by the garage on the way inside. There were several polished luxury cars and motorcycles carefully parked, stacked and displayed in automatic lifts. It was obvious that Lady came from a wealthy family and knew a life without material want.

The affluence of Lady's dwelling stirred up Dante's own memories of childhood. He remembered a time of comfortable living when he was small. His childhood home was much like this, a display of over indulgence in the conveniences and eye candy that money can buy. The show of wealth was not so much to impress people, but that his parents spared no expense when it came to their children. For all the current troubles he had with his dysfunctional family, he did have a well-protected childhood with happy memories. He recalled play fighting his brother and exploring long, endless hallways with hidden nooks and crannies. There were birthday cakes, Christmas Trees, fireworks, heart candies and feasts for special occasions. He remembered receiving many hugs and kisses from loving parents. Those memories, as accursed as they were in respect to Dante's current circumstances, were the his pillars of right and wrong.

Then Sparda disappeared or died. Eva did her best without her husband and it was not enough. It all predictably went to hell.

Looks like he has more in common with Lady than he thought.

"Do you have to be here?" Lady asked plaintively. She was sitting at a large desk with a mess of paper and a ready handgun in front of her. A pen was in her hand. They were in a study of sorts, one of many rooms that could be counted as a study or a library. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The topics of the books ranged from the Greek text of Plato's works to children's board books. Dante's childhood home was like that too, with perhaps even more musty books and relics. His father, Sparda, had centuries to accumulate junk, after all.

Dante glanced over at her, recalling why they were even here.

Lady finally obtained Arkham's death certificate, which listed the official cause of death as bullets to the head. The city's coroner's office had been reluctant to issue the certificate directly to her, wanting to have a lawyer or a legal guardian as an intermediary to make sure that there was a criminal investigation. The coroner had rightfully wanted justice for a murdered man, for leaving a child without a parent. Lady had flatly demanded the certificate three separate times, over course of months, before she took the time to tell him why the certificate should be released to her without much fuss. She patiently explained to him, with her guns, that she took good care of herself well enough and would take care of the pesky coroner just as well she was not provided with what she wanted.

So now, with the proper certificate, it meant that she could finally take the next step in accessing the totality of her parent's wealth. That also meant a mountain of official paperwork that had to be shuffled. There were enough legal papers that did not really fit in a backpack while on a motorcycle or carried on a bus that stopped far from the residential area where Lady used to live. So Dante's car was volunteered.

"You only have a learner's permit. I can't exactly have you drive around without adult supervision," Dante pointed out. "You've already been pulled over twice. I don't want to have to bail you out of jail."

Lady's bi-colored eyes smoldered at Dante's comment, ready to start an argument. But at the end, she decided to let the perceived insult go. He wasn't exactly wrong. Just because the police call on them when a demon infestation became too tough to manage did not mean that a rookie traffic cop was going to ignore things like driving age. Both had enough encounters with the law to know that for them, it was usually three strikes before some sort of overnight jail sentence. The fact that neither had spent much time in jail was surprising really, considering all the theft, destruction and acrobatics they had performed with private property.

Besides, his comments had an implication to them. He would post bail for her to get her out of a tight spot, when he really had no obligations to be responsible for her. She wondered if he was this generous to every person he met.

Dante busied himself by looking the framed photographs on the walls, not paying attention to the sudden shift in Lady's mood. In areas where the walls were not covered by bookshelves, it was covered by photos. There were many photographs of Kalina Ann with other children who were at most, six years old. The children all smiled widely, many showing off their toothy grin and genuine love for the violet-eyed woman. Kalina Ann maintained her usual non-smile. Most of the children did not look like Kalina Ann.

"Who are these people?"

"My mother's students," Lady answered. There was a rustling of paper as she continued to sort the paperwork. "She was a substitute elementary school teacher, on good days."

Dante examined some other photos. He noted pictures of Lady's parents, pictures that showed Arkham smiling faintly at Kalina Ann, back during a time period when they probably liked each other enough to make a child together. There were additional pictures of Kalina Ann with national monuments in the background, still unsmiling. It appeared that Lady's parents were well-traveled and took pains to retain evidence of their exotic destinations.

He noted with a realization that he had yet to see a photograph that displayed Lady, or any other relative. "How come there is no picture of you?"

There was no answer.

"Lady, I asked you a question."

Still no answer.

With a shrug, Dante let the subject go. It was one of their unspoken rules. Neither will overly pursue a topic that either one felt uncomfortable with. Let the bygone be bygone. Lady had skirted around all topics involving Vergil. Dante made sure...well, he almost never ask her about her family. From the very lack of Lady's image in this mansion, it was probably a good thing that he did not.

Dante felt a little sorry for Lady, then, an emotion he was not used to having toward her. He had good memories of his beautiful and gentle mother. For what it was worth, faint memories of his father playing with him and his twin. There were so many memories of him and Vergil together, before their inevitable break. Dante knew and had experienced a love-filled life at one point.

From the display of worldly conquests in this one room, it looked like Lady was an inconvenient person to people who were overwhelmed with their own desires and problems.

"Are you the only child?" asked Dante, still trying to make idle conversation.

Lady shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess?" Dante followed up. "You don't remember if you have any siblings?"

Lady put down her pen and gave Dante one of her usual intense gazes, as if trying to determine if he was trying to tease her or was genuinely curious about the details of her life. She decided on a combination of both. "I was one of three live births among many that were miscarried or stillborn." There was a bitter twist of her lips. "Maybe my father sacrificed them in his quest for power. Since I was so lovingly spared so he would have enough blood to open Temen-ni-gru, I wouldn't put it past him."

Another uncomfortable moment ensued between them. Talking about the past never bode well for the both of them. He was reminded of his loss of family. She was reminded how she was fooled and used the entire time. Both held onto an idealized version of their mothers as the foundation of who they are now but at some level, they resented everyone in their lives.

He had to get out of there.

"I'm going to show myself around."

* * *

Dante took his time to go through the many rooms, dens, hallways and basements. Without Lady's presence distracting his attention and senses, he could detect something was enormously off with this place. This fancy mansion had the vibe of a quite a bit of violence and passion that occurred in the past. The faint scent of dried blood permeated regular rooms with the strongest blood scent coming from the basement. There was still police body tape down there, along with the stains of dried blood and whatever animal or human that was sacrificed there. Normally, a place with this much blood scent gave him a sense of thrill. His sword, Rebellion, which he carried with him everywhere unfamiliar, would sing in excitement. He did not experience his normal reaction to the blood scent, in fact, quite the opposite.

Dante took a moment to suppress a shiver that never came. The age of the mansion and heinous rituals committed in this place should have made this place a hotbed of supernatural infestation. Yet, the place was barren, sterile even. There was no malevolent presence as he would have expected. There was not even a ghost or lingering emotion in the place. He felt oppressed, like someone was stepping on his throat the entire time and he could not quite catch his breath.

No wonder Lady chose to live at a half-demon's bachelor pad rather than this place. Nude woman posters, pizza boxes and demon head trophies seemed almost tame compared to the repressive atmosphere of this place.

Despite the willies this place was giving him, Dante did spend some time in the formal library. Out of the many studies and room that had bookshelves, the formal library had to have held the same number of books as all the other rooms combined. The walls were lined with books and the area in between stood bookshelves. There were added ladders for access to books that rested on higher shelves.

He took the time to casually glance over the topics. His origin and occupation required that he understand the occult, no matter how trivial. Knowledge was power and despite his rather cavalier attitude to esoteric reading material, he was not so stupid to completely disregard the information held in them.

As expected, there were quite many books filled with much nonsense about demons, both fictional and factual. There was an extensive catalog of text on other supernatural creatures, from faeries to Bigfoot. There was even a small section about angels.

What was more interesting was there were some books exclusively written in demon script, a language that he instinctively understood, if he only spent the time to carefully study each character. The slow and tedious method worked on the demon equivalent of children's books, but anything more complicated, he simply had not the patience for. It was a lack of speed reading skill that he knew would one day, come back and bit him. He would have to ask Nevan or one of his other devil arms about the possibility of having formal training in demon language at some point. It would probably be good to study up on it in his spare time.

All in all, it was an impressive collection. Combined with whatever other books in this extensive mansion, the information here may rival the Divine Library. This may become useful in the future.

He'll have to convince Lady to somehow selectively preserve the information in these books, whatever she ended up deciding to do with her family's wealth. There might be a method to digitize some of the text, though even Dante himself had not quite figured that out yet. He knew that the written material of otherworldly texts tend to break anything electronic and interfered with traditional photography. It was so bad that digital watches would break when held close to demon script.

On his way out of the formal library, he took a moment to glance over the section about angels. He had always been somewhat curious about the opposite of demons. It made no sense to see that demons wreck havoc in the human world without a supernatural equivalent who performed the opposite.

Perhaps demons and angels were the same things. He certainly saw many statues of beautifully winged creatures in areas where people worshiped demons. Their faces were always grotesque skulls, though. It was also said that demons were simply fallen angels. It might be the reason why demons who took on human form always looked so attractive. Dante included himself in that grouping. He knew he was quite handsome in human terms. If he put some effort into it, he knew he could easily charm women and men.

All except Lady.

Of course, it did appear that she grew up in this creepy mansion. Perhaps that was why she had a hostile default to everything; she never knew how unnatural her circumstances were.

He saw a large encyclopedic book on angelic beings, and idly opened it. It appeared to be an illustrated tome on angelic order, from the lowly angel who protected humans to the burning ones who sang endless praises to God. Going along with the creepy theme, he noted that the illustrated drawings of the angels had their face blacked out by a ball point pen.

Oddly, there was a picture card wedged between the pages of the book, in midst of the text puke about seraphim.

It was actually a baby announcement card, something that Dante had seen advertised at the print shop of grocery stores. Seasons greetings and announcement cards like moving, graduation and births were the trappings of those who had the time and money to waste. It seemed like something Lady's wealthy parents would have indulged in at one point.

What a strange and random place to find something like this.

It was an old card, depicting Kalina Ann cradling a wide, violet-eyed baby. The Kalina Ann in this picture did not have the usual thousand-mile stare and lips tightened into a straight line that usually characterized her in the prominently displayed paintings and photos. She seemed alive, with that twinkle in the eyes and appealing smile that Dante had seen on Lady on rare occasions. There was a feeling about Kalina Ann in this picture that made anyone who looked at her want to do anything she asked.

He looked at the name and announcement date and frowned in puzzlement. The given name was Mary, so that was definitely Lady. According to the date, this card was printed about sixteen years ago which corresponded to Lady's confessed age. He was certain that Lady had heterochromatic eyes, with one red and one blue, not violet ones. Maybe eye colors change over time? Could it be a trick of photography or lighting? He did hear that the eyes of human albinos do appear either red or violet, depending on the lighting and the camera angle. Maybe eye color was not set in human babies. One of Lady's eyes was red in color. Maybe one of those eyes changed color as she matured.

Perhaps Lady was correct in her response to his question about siblings. Maybe Arkham really did kill babies. Maybe Lady had a twin also and that baby twin was sacrificed. His Lady just happened to escape by the luck of the draw and had the chance to grow up and become Dante's friend. His Lady had the luck of killing her own father and now picking off demons like a bad cockroach infestation problem.

It seemed almost an echo of biblical words of wisdom. The sins of the father continue to the next generation and the next generation. In their case, they had to and are still cleaning up their fathers' messes. Who knew what other screwy shit their parents were up to when they did not even exist and were now responsible for?

He frowned at the hand written text on the card, though.

It was in some sort of demon script, but not the kind Dante understood. Perhaps it was an unintelligible dialect? Perhaps the script was a nonsensical benediction? Demon script followed a pictograph system of written language, which made certain idioms completely incomprehensible to a half-demon like him. He touched the words with an index finger as if feeling the word written on the paper helped him understand its meaning.

The script started to glow, then the areas where he traced the words started to smolder and burn.

Dante quickly slammed the book closed, knowing that the lack of oxygen typically put out fires. He was a semi-pyromaniac as a youth, seeing how fire really did not hurt him all that much and it scared off the older foster siblings who wanted to pound on him.

Instead, the entire book was in flames. Dante dropped the book and stomped on it with his booted foot until the fire was put out.

He looked around once the fire was out, hoping that he did not accidentally trigger something weird, like causing a tower to rise out of the ground or accidentally caused an explosion and burn Lady's house down. Stranger things had happened in his life.

He looked at his finger and noted that there was a blister on his index finger. He had to stare at it for a full minute since for the life of him, he could not comprehend why he even had a blister. It made no sense. He could withstand impalement to the chest and still heal within second. This stupid blister from a spontaneous fire did not appear to heal anytime soon and it hurt.

He looked back at the book. The overly large tome was partially reduced to ash. Miraculously, the card was only half-burnt, preserving the picture. Some of the strange word, ones that Dante did not touch, were still legible.

What exactly just happened?

* * *

It took about a couple more hours before Lady came to look for him. By then, Dante had already looked at every room of the mansion.

Lady found Dante gazing out the window of a room at the far end of the mansion, away from the congregation areas like the receiving hall, den and living room. In this particular wing of the house, the blood scent was weakest here and completely absent in this tiny room. Outside the window was pastureland and a pond. Everything was still, calm and stagnant.

Unlike most of the extravagantly furnished mansion with heavy curtains and tapestries, this room seemed threadbare. The room was almost walk-in-closet-sized. The walls were white, without decoration. The bed was small, with simple white rough cotton sheets and comforter. There was a small bookshelf full of literary classics and children's stories. Instead of a warm soft lamp, there was florescent tube light installed. There was even a laptop computer. All in all, this room was coldly modern. The only softness of this room was the scent of sweet peas and orchids.

"You've found my old room," said Lady simply. She had found a white rucksack and from the shape of the sack, it was filled with papers. Separately, though, she carried a large brown envelope in her other hand.

That would've explained why this one room was so different from the rest. It had that white simplicity and scent that he had come to associate with Lady. "Why is it so small?"

"This used to be a servant's room," said Lady simply. She dropped the rucksack and envelope on the bed. The stack of paper was heavy. "In the past, servants were not to be heard or seen. So their rooms are always far away from the main wings of the house."

"Your parents would make you stay in this room?"

"It was my choice. The smaller the room, the less chance of monsters hiding in the shadows. This place is strange." Lady gestured vaguely to the center of the mansion. "I'm sure you've noticed it."

"It's as noticeable as being smacked in the face with a bowling ball," said Dante honestly. He had never been to a place that had such oppressive atmosphere. He grinned at her suddenly when an excellent idea came to mind. "Wanna pay me to investigate why that is?" Judging from the affluence of the mansion, Lady should have no problem compensating him well. Since they were friends, maybe she would be extra generous. He also wanted to make back the money he lost in betting against her rent money.

An eyebrow was raised. Seeing his playfulness, she made a counter offer. "If you want to play a game of dice over it, sure."

The grin immediately fell. "No negotiation, Lady. You know I have no luck."

"Then we can table the discussion for later."

Then, a thought came to him and fished out the half-burnt card. He was careful to touch only the edge of the card so he does not set his coat on fire. He still had yet to understand what had occurred so it was best to be safe than sorry. "I think I've finally found a picture of you."

Lady took the card with both hands. She glanced at it, a confused look flashed across her face. "I've never seen this before."

That wasn't too unusual, Dante reasoned. Parents were unlikely to show their children of all the likely embarrassing photos they've taken of their babies, leaving the cringe-worthy evidence for their adult children to find. Still, Dante had his own questions. "Isn't that you and your mom?"

She took the card with both hands. She looked at it, seemingly deep in thought. "I believe so. This is my mom and the name and the birth date are correct," said Lady. The baby in the picture did look like her, if she squinted hard enough. There was the obvious difference in the color of the eyes, but that detail did not appear to bother her. She fingered the charred edge. "Why is part of it burnt off?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He decided to omit the part that it started burning after he touched it. He no longer had the blister to prove it. "Maybe there is some sort of ward on it. I mean, I can't even read the text."

It was Lady's turn to trace the strange, rune-like characters, her motion almost exactly mirrored Dante's own gestures hours earlier. However, the expression on her face was one of recognition. "It says, "blessed art thou amongst women,' the rest is probably burned off. I think it's a common Catholic prayer to the Holy Mary," she said, the last word almost came out as a spat. She still had an automatic dislike to her given name, directed at her or otherwise.

Dante raised an eyebrow. "You know demon script?"

"Is that what this is? It's certainly no demon script that I know."

Now that comment surprised him more than anything. "Wait a second, are you telling me that you knew all those squiggles in the books and on the walls of Temen-ni-gru?"

Lady shook her head. "I know some fundamentals, enough to understand the basic theme but not fully understand." Back to the stupid card. "This isn't demon script, though. It's something else."

"What is it, then?"

Lady shrugged. "I don't know." Lady seemed melancholy as she stared at the image of her mother. Finally, she sighed and idly stuffing the card in her pocket and crossed her arms. "And it doesn't matter, now. They're gone."

Another stab of sympathy for Lady struck Dante as he was once again reminded that she was in the same boat as him. Both of them were orphans. They were both children who were left behind by overly involved families to pick up the mess. They both had to learn early on to cut their losses and move on.

It was a lesson that lady had learned well and she already skipped to the next topic. She picked up the large brown envelope and handed it to him. "Here. I found this as I was digging through the files. I think you should take a look at it."

"Uhhh. Thanks." Dante took it. Lady was forever passing on information, whether it be crappy job advertisements or pizza deals. He opened up the envelope, ready to skim through the contents when Lady put a hand on his hand.

"Stop," said Lady. "It's probably best that you wait until you're alone."

"Err...any particular reason?"

"Because it concerns him," Lady said, stressing the last word. It was their code whenever they referred to Dante's most sensitive topic. "I'm not sure how some of the documents found its away into this house. But since he is no longer here, they belong to you, now"

That was right. Whatever used to be Vergil's was technically Dante's. Their inheritance from their father, Sparda, had finally made its way down, to Eva, Vergil and finally to him, the last surviving member of his family.

"We should go," Lady said before they both wasted time brooding. She had learned that having too much free time usually spelled disaster for emotional stability. It's always best to keep busy. "Can you go bring the car around? I want to bring along some stuff from my old room back to the shop." She gestured to the closet. "I'm running out of clothes."

"Sure," said Dante, moving to leave the room.

The young man made it halfway down the hall before pausing to take a peek at the contents of the large brown envelope. He quickly glanced through some of the letter-sized documents.

To his amazement and almost elation, he realized that these were formal documents like deeds, bank account records, even birth certificates. These were documents, that he realized as he became an adult, made life much easier in terms of obtaining social services and legal protection to property rights. Most of these were Vergil's and it made sense that his older brother had the patience to track down, or at least create forgeries, these documents from the ashes of their childhood. From the looks of things, though, most of these appeared legitimate.

There were pictures in there too, loose Polaroid pictures or otherwise. However, Dante knew better than to pull them out. There will be plenty of time later to ogle over these pictures later, when he wanted to take another depressive walk down memory lane.

He was curious, though. How did these things get here? Of all places? No time to puzzle that question out. Lady was probably getting impatient waiting for him.

He carefully shuffled the documents back into a more or less neat pile and back into the large brown envelope.

He proceeded down the hall little ways before realizing that he really had not learned his way around the place and was not sure where the nearest stairwell was. He paced quietly back to the room, hoping to get further directions.

He noticed that the door to Lady's old bedroom was mostly closed, opened only to allow a slit view into the room. Like a voyeur, he looked in between the slit.

Lady had taken out that picture card out again, a finger how tracing the cheeks of the mother whom she would never hold again. Her eyes seemed wet. Sighing again, she held it against her chest, as if such action could make her hold and feel the real person again. Her entire body trembled. With a free hand, she covered her mouth, trying to mute the irregular breathing sound. She blinked once, and the tears trailed down her cheeks.

Such scene reminded Dante of something similar he saw as a child. His mother Eva had cried when she thought the children were not watching, often quietly cursing their father for leaving them. As a child, he had been confused by her tears since tears were the product of physical hurt. He had wanted to go hug her and kiss her boo-boos so it would be okay. He never worked up the nerve to follow through with his human instincts. It was unmanly and he would get another scolding from Vergil if he disturbed her during her private moments again. Thinking back, he never did the opportunity again since his mother was murdered soon after.

That all too familiar human urge to calm down another human struck Dante.

He did not know whether he cared for Lady more than he cared for the women he liked to have his usual one-night-stands with. There had been many women who cried in his arms, for which he went through the motion of hugging them and telling them it was going to be okay. He had learned that was the expected behavior and it usually rewarded him with the woman's favor. He knew from experience that Lady would reject such gestures from him and might even earn him something painful.

But this was completely different. He wanted to hug her, not even for her favor, just that she stop looking so helpless and hurt. Strange how she always seemed so alive, strong and confident in face of possible death in front of a herd of demons. To see her be so vulnerable at a picture image seemed wrong.

Lady was so distraught that she did not even notice the door opening. She continued her struggle to kept steady her mental state as she felt arms wrapped around her, holding her head close to a firm chest.

"Why?" she choked out angrily. Lady had enormous control over the outward expression of her emotions, but her voice had a wounded-animal quality to it. "Why did she have to die? Why did my father do this? They were supposed to protect me!"

Dante was struck by those words. He had asked those same questions once upon a time, probably at about the same age as Lady. He recalled a moment of rage when he felt no control over his life and similar ambivalent feelings towards those he thought he loved. He blamed Sparda for leaving his family. He thought his mother weak and his brother a coward for taking the easy way out. The remaining humans who had attempted to help him along during his teenage years were simply greedy and incompetent. He knew that none of it was absolutely true, but at the time, those warped thoughts fueled that fury to live, to spite those who had failed and mocked him.

It must had been the same for Lady. Outwardly, she was driven by the altruistic mission to rid the world of demons. Inwardly, it was only for revenge and to sate an inner bloodthrist and need to destroy. To kill demons represented a symbol of control over her own life when she could never be completely in control, not when she was technically still a ward of the state.

There was a light brush of a forefinger beneath his eyes. The gesture so startled Dante that he let go of Lady, taking a couple of steps back. He quickly touched his own face only to find relief that his face was dry. However, he observed Lady look at her own finger speculatively, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together as if she had touched something wet.

They both looked at each other, then suddenly laughed and looked away, both suddenly feeling rather embarrassed.

"I feel like I'm going crazy," said Lady, scoffing at herself. She fell into her bed, burying her hand in her face, shaking her head.

"Nope," Dante disagreed, an ironic smile on his lips, "We're already crazy."

That comment elicited a sardonic snort. Why must Dante make sense now? Where was that womanizing, facetious playboy she was used to? "You must think I'm weak," she ended up saying, looking back up at Dante. All traces of her earlier melancholy seemed to have vanished. Her usual guarded resting bitch face returned.

"Aren't we all? At some point?" Dante asked rhetorically. "As weak as babies and no more than cannon fodder."

Lady's face twitched, somewhat caught off guard by the rather direct description of their own helplessness at one point. It seemed so...un-Dante-like. "You sound philosophical," she observed.

Dante shrugged. "We owe our existence to someone at some point. What if our mother decided not to have us before we were even born? Or let us starve to death as newborns?" His expression darken. "What if we are only alive because we are needed to open a demon gateway? Don't get me wrong. I know I'm special, in my own mind, and probably as insignificant as a bug to everyone else, until they need a demon extermination."

"You thought about this, a lot, haven't you?" she asked.

"That's why I say we're already crazy. None of this make much sense and thinking about it only makes it worse. So I don't think about it," Dante replied. Now it was his turn to shake his head, as if the act could knock the thoughts out of his brain. "You know what? We really need to get out of here. The atmosphere is getting to me."

"Yes. Let's get back," Lady wholeheartedly agreed.


End file.
